ould see at once that it was of the purest strain and
highest breeding.
"Come with me," the sheik said to Edgar. "At present, you see, he is not
accustomed to your white face, but he will soon come to love you, and
answer to your call."
The horse, indeed, had laid back his ears, distended his dilated
nostrils, and stepped back a foot or two; but as the sheik approached it
gave a little whinny of pleasure, and, advancing, laid its muzzle
against his cheek.
"This is your new master, Beauty," he said, as he stroked its glossy
neck. "He will keep you well, and you will be as one of his children,
and you must be a good friend and servant to him."
Edgar now stroked the animal. A quiver as of fear ran through it as he
touched it, but as he continued, this died away; and as Edgar spoke
quietly to it in Arabic, it was not long before it responded to his
caresses, and after taking a good look at him with its soft liquid eyes,
it put its head on his shoulder.
"You are friends now," the sheik said, with a tone of pleasure. "It is
to few, even of my tribesmen, whom he would give such a greeting. He
recognizes you already as his friend. Give him a handful of sweetmeats,
and the bargain will be sealed."
The merchant at once sent one of the native boys out to buy a bag of
sweetmeats. The sheik waited until he saw the horse taking these out of
Edgar's hands and munching them contentedly, then, leaving one of his
tribesmen in charge of the horse, he mounted, and rode off with his son
and the rest of his followers. Edgar stood for some time talking to the
horse, and then, leaving it to the native, went into the house to make
his preparations for the journey.
"You have, indeed, done well for yourself, Edgar," his father said as he
came in. "'Tis in every way fortunate. The Turks love us little, and
though they put up with us, as they need the goods that we sell, still
there may at any moment be a fanatical rising, and it is well, indeed,
to have made friends with one of the desert tribes, among whom you can
find a safe refuge. You little know the value of the horse he has given
you. The breed is a famous one, and the sheik has been offered a
fabulous sum for one of his steeds, but nothing could tempt him to part
with one. An Arab prizes a valuable horse beyond all his earthly
possessions, and, save under the pressure of the direst want, nothing
could persuade him to part with it. In presenting it to you, therefore,
the chie
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